


Entente Cordiale

by mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historical, One Shot, Other, World War I, fruk if you squint, historically accurate hetalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark/pseuds/mysongsknowhatyoudidinthedark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England and France are forced to sign a peace treaty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entente Cordiale

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic I'm posting. I hope you like it!

England tapped his pen against his desk. So many taxes! So many bloody taxes! And why did he have to sort through them?

Nonetheless, he scowled and continued attending to his work.

His secretary came into his office. “Mr. Kirkland, the Prime Minister would like to see you.”

“He’s the one making me do all this bloody work. Don’t we have someone for this? There could be someone out there, starving, and I’m doing a job that that person could damn well do.”

“Winston said something about free labor to me,” she giggled.

“Free labor, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “What would the great Winston Churchill like to see me about?”

“He didn’t say. If you want to discover what on Earth the great Winston Churchill would like to talk to you about, then you’re welcome to see him in his office.”

He groaned. “Yes, ma’am.” England then promptly got out of his chair and headed over to Mr. Churchill’s office.

The thing that annoyed England most about Winston Churchill was that he had a bigger office. Quite unfortunately, the country himself didn’t get a large office, but a small, dusty one with one light fixture, one desk, one window and one small bookcase.

But the great Winston Churchill held office in a rather large room with many windows, a much larger desk, a bookcase spanning the side of the wall, and multiple lamps.

“Ah, Arthur. There you are,” Mr. Churchill said.

“What would you like to discuss, sir?” England inquired, taking a seat in front of the desk.

“You don’t seem to get along with France very well, do you?”

The country eyed him suspiciously. “What do you care about my relationship with other countries?”

“Well, it so happens that Germany has made a treaty. Several of them, actually.” Winston handed that morning’s newspaper to him.

England read the title: Germany Makes Triple Alliance. “Did we not decide that we would isolate ourselves?”

“We did,” Churchill nodded, “but I’m now reconsidering.”

“Reconsidering, sir?”

“Yes. You do know what that means—”

“Of course I know what that means,” England interrupted.

“To get to the point: France is allying himself with Russia, and I think you need to ally with France.”

The country jumped straight out his chair furiously. “No bloody way! I’m not allying myself with that bastard!”

“You do it, or you risk being attacked by Russia or Germany,” Winston said, trying to reason with him.

England began mumbling and groaning about how he was always right and how he wanted to strangle him. “Damn it, fine.”

“Good. I’ll send France in.”

“He’s here! Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he yelled.

“Please, try not to act like a child. We need to act diplomatic for once.”

“Yessir,” he gritted through his teeth.

A few moments later, the door opened to a blonde-haired man wearing a suit and tie and carrying a brief case. He was followed by a slightly older man.

“France.”

“England, good to see you.”

“This meeting is to ally our countries and to establish peace,” Winston explained. “I have already convinced my country, but if you could please sign our treaty to prove your trust.”

“Yes, of course,” France said with his grossly thick French accent. At least, that’s what England believed.

Winston pulled out a paper from his desk and he placed it down for everyone to sign. Everyone signed, even England, who grudgingly wrote his name down.

“There! I believe we’re friends now!” France exclaimed, giving the other country a warm smile.

“Oh, shut up.” England scowled. “I wouldn’t call us friends, but we must at least act civil toward each other.”

“That’ll be hard for you, no?”

“Sir, can he leave now?” England begged.

“I just formed an alliance with Russia. If you would like to join, you may,” France told him.

Before England could spout that it was “very bloody unlikely,” he looked over at Churchill. The man was giving him a “don’t you dare ruin this” look. The country sighed. “I’d love to.”

“That is wonderful to hear!”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get going before I get really pissed at you,” England said, giving the other country a slight smile.

“I will call you, no?” France asked.

“Do you even have my number?” France nodded. “Fine, then.”

No one could believe when they saw England politely chatting on the phone with his new, dear friend the very next day.


End file.
